Personal logs
by Rogue28
Summary: Post-eps in the guise of the personal logs of Trip and T'Pol to get us through summer hiatus. Spoilers from "Similitude" on.
1. Personal Log: Similitude: Trip

Title: Personal Logs

Author: Rogue28

Ships: Trip/T'Pol

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the sandbox.  If I was making any money off of this, I'd be writing like crazy.

Archive: Permission granted to the Warp 5 project and to the House of Tucker.  Otherwise, ask first.

Summary:  Post-eps to get through the summer hiatus, in the form of personal logs from both Trip and T'Pol's perspectives, starting with "Similitude."

A/N:  I've only seen Enterprise from Similitude on, due to a grievous lack of UPN in my hometown, so please forgive any terminology errors.  Also, feedback is fun.

**Personal Log, Cmdr. Tucker, ****November 15, 2153****.**

This has been one hell of a ride.

The last thing I remembered was standing on top of the warp engine.  And then I woke up in sickbay, over a week later, and there was a dead man next to me with my face.

What do you say to something like that?  That there was another living, breathing, person, and he died so I could live.

The rest of the crew has been acting differently towards me.  Malcolm and I had been having a couple of discussions on how much of a holy terror I must have been as a child.  He didn't believe me when I told him that I behaved pretty well, despite my penchant for taking things apart.  

He's not mentioned it since.  He won't talk about Sim, either.  He just clams up in typical Malcolm fashion.  Hoshi smiles and says that she read to him, and then he read to her, and that Jon wasn't sure that he was going to get Porthos back from him.

Jon won't say anything either.  He's locked himself away in his ready room, and will barely speak to me except for what's necessary for running the ship.  I know he feels responsible for what happened to me, and to Sim.  And when he looks at me, I think he's not just seeing me.  He's seeing Sim, too, and it's something he doesn't want to think about right now.

Jon's treading on mighty thin ice with this.  Starfleet may have his ass over this when they find out.  Even Phlox admitted that it was unethical.  But Jon's justification was that Earth needed _Enterprise_.  And _Enterprise_ needed me.  Yet if Sim had all my memories, and all my experiences, then I really don't see why they needed me.

It's just so damn unfair.  Sim could have lived.  He was working on a way that could have kept him from dying, and then he would have been me.  For all intents and purposes, he would have been Commander Charles Tucker III, and I would still be lying in Sickbay, unconscious.  

I went to see Phlox so he could check my head.  I've got a little scar on the back of my head where he replaced some of my brain tissue with Sim's.  I asked him why he created Sim.  And he surprised me.  

"Commander," he said, "I created Sim because you are important.  It was not because the captain compelled me to do so, because even if the captain had disagreed with my idea, I might have created Sim anyway.  And I raised Sim from an infant through his short life.  He was, in a way, my son, but he's not gone, despite his death.  Everything that he did, Commander, was something that you would have done.  It was the sum of your experiences in your life that caused Sim to choose to give up his life for yours.  And in a way, I feel that because you are alive, he is also.  I know that you would gladly give up your own life to save Earth from the Xindi, because Sim did.  And that is more than encouraging." 

T'Pol came in then, and the conversation stopped there.  But I was dumbfounded.  Phlox is, well, he's Phlox, and he sort of defies description.  And while I've known him to give excellent advice before, I was sort of struck by that.  Still am.  

And the thing is, seeing Sim, lying there, I know very well that it could end up being me.  there may come a day when it's me lying there in that coffin, and the captain saying words over, because there may come a day when I'm not as lucky as I was this time.  And it's made me face my own mortality.  And it's not something I'm comfortable with.

T'Pol won't really say anything about Sim either, and of all the people on the ship, I would have thought she would have been able to talk about it.  I mean, she's a Vulcan, and if someone could suppress their emotions to talk about it, I would think it would have been her.  But when I went to her quarters, I asked her about it.  And all she said was that she would prefer not to discuss it right now.  She didn't explain, and right then, I didn't think I should ask.  

I didn't tell her that I had a nightmare last night.  She asked me if I had slept well this morning at breakfast, and I lied and told her I had, and if she didn't believe me, she didn't say anything.  Only this time it wasn't about Lizzie dying.  It was about me dying.  About standing there at my own funeral, only I wasn't dead, and no one realized it.

I'm supposed to go over to T'Pol's in about five minutes.  And I'm wondering if she's going to talk to me about it.  

Or if she's just going to look at me like she's seeing someone else.  Just like everyone else.


	2. Personal Log: Similitude: T'Pol

Title: Personal Logs  
Author: Rogue28  
Ships: Trip/T'Pol  
Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the sandbox.  If I was making any money off of this, I'd be writing like crazy.  
Archive: Permission granted to the Warp 5 project and to the House of Tucker.  Otherwise, ask first.  
Summary:  Post-eps to get through the summer hiatus, in the form of personal logs from both Trip and T'Pol's perspectives, starting with "Similitude."  
A/N:  I've only seen Enterprise from Similitude on, due to a grievous lack of UPN in my hometown, so please forgive any terminology errors.  Also, feedback is fun.

**Personal Log, T'Pol of Vulcan, ****November 15, 2153****, Earth date**

The past few days have been most difficult for me.  My mind has been occupied with two issues that have made it increasingly strenuous to rid my mind of distractions during my meditation.  One, the strange substance that attached itself to _Enterprise_'s hull.  Two, the situation concerning Commander Tucker.

The commander and I have become—well acquainted during our neuropressure sessions.  He was sleeping better, as was evidenced by his increased efficiency on duty, and he seemed much more relaxed than he had previously.  While I doubt that he has begun to truly deal with the grief, which I understand humans can repress in a manner equal to that of Vulcans, he has pulled himself together in a fashion which will allow him to function until we can complete our mission in the Expanse.

I do not understand how humans do this.  For Vulcans, in repressing our emotions require that we do recognize them before repressing them.  Yet humans can repress an emotion without ever realizing that it was affecting them, although others around them can recognize it immediately.  Grief is a natural process, and it is natural to regret the loss of a family member or colleague.  

However, none of Surak's teachings ever dealt with resurrection of the dead, so to speak.  I have found that dealing with the death of Sim and the return of Commander Tucker is quite harder than I believed it would be.  While we were concerned for Commander Tucker's welfare, many members of the crew became attached to Sim.  

Vulcans pride themselves on their honesty, so I will endeavour to be as honest as possible.  I formed an—emotional—attachment to Sim.  While I had been working with Sim for several days, I had turned down his advances, which I judged to be those of a teenage boy.

I was, however, incorrect in that assumption.  Sim came to my quarters and confessed his feelings for me.  Or, perhaps, Commander Tucker's feelings for me.  It was unsettling, and I was unsure of how to react to this.

An impulse struck me, unlike the scientific impulses I frequently allow myself to give into.  Those impulses are logical decisions, rationalized and arrived at in a logical manner.  This impulse was an emotional one, and I kissed Sim.

It was an experience unlike any I have previously encountered.  I have found this event, and Sim's funeral reluctant to leave my mind.

Commander Tucker asked me to relate my experiences with Sim.  While this would undoubtedly accelerate his own healing process dealing with the emotional havoc this event has played with his emotions, I declined.  It was not out of any wish to cause Commander Tucker harm, or to delay his healing, but because I find myself without words to describe my interaction with Sim.

Perhaps, even if I had the words, I would not be able to discuss this with Commander Tucker.  At least not now.  

There are, of course, the moral implications of Sim's creation to be dealt with.  Captain Archer seemed adamant about Sim's creation.  While such an action was morally reprehensible by both human and Vulcan standards, I find that I cannot justify an action otherwise.  To let Commander Tucker die through our inaction would have been nearly as morally objectionable.  And faced with the possibility that Commander Tucker's demise could—would—affect our ability to carry out our mission and destroy the Xindi weapon, it was the logical choice on Captain Archer's part.  Surak plainly states that the good of the many outweigh the good of the few, or in this case, the one.

I had a conversation with Dr. Phlox this afternoon.  Commander Tucker had just left the infirmary, and I inquired as to the doctor's state of being.  He smiled, and said, "T'Pol, there goes a man who would give up everything to save his planet.  And in a way, he already has."

That day may come when our ship and crew must make the ultimate sacrifice to save Earth from the Xindi.  Yet I hope that it never does.

Because hope is not just a human emotion.


End file.
